Okay, it took me way too long to get this out. When I said I was running out of ideas I wasn't joking. So please, PM me if you don't want others reading your dirty suggestions. I promis I won't tell everyone who's a pervert:) And if I did't use your suggestion doesn't mean I did't like it...It's really what my muse wants to do with it.
I disclaim CSI: NY. I seem to forget to do that when I post these and I don't want to get into trouble.
All mistakes are mine, and I'm sending out a HUGE thanks to Sunny Kerr for betaing.
Cat That Ate the Canary -- or wanted to.
It had been a very long day.
With a double homicide on his hands, Mac had called Lindsay in on her day off. She was wearing a skirt. It came to just above her knees and was that dusty pink color she seemed to like so much.
Danny liked it too. The length more so than the color.
Her top was white and tight.
And he had her black lace panties in the inside breast pocket of his jacket.
She did it all day: Pretended that she hadn't called him up and whispered sexy things to him, pretended that he hadn't touched her wet naked body in the shower and pretended that he hadn't watched her silhouette ride his body like a jockey.
But then he pretended that she hadn't done those things either.
Detective Flack was a trained investigator after all.
Danny watched her all day, when Flack wasn't in the room and when she wasn't paying attention.
She'd tucked her skirt between her knees for the third time.
"You know, Montana. We have jumpers you can change into. Won't wreck your skirt," he said, teasing her lightly, just like he would if Flack was in the room. She wanted to pretend? Then so would he.
"It's too hot in here for the jumper." She wasn't looking at him, but there was something in her voice as she examined the decaying body in front of her.
When the day was over, Danny closed his locker and headed to the elevator.
At the doors, Lindsay was waiting, alone, in the skirt, in the tight shirt. And he had her black lace panties in his pocket.
"Hard day," she said when he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah, glad it's over." He followed her ass as she walked into the elevator. He rubbed his eyes and moved in next to her.
He glanced in her direction once; she looked like she was lost in thought so he said nothing. The door pinged at the parking garage and Danny let Lindsay exit first. He licked his bottom lip and followed her until they rounded the corner, where the security cameras couldn't see them.
Taking a leap of faith, he grabbed her hand and spun her around. He took one look into her surprised and confused brown eyes before using his other hand to cup her face and press his lips to hers.
There was a two second pause before she responded and when she did he pushed her back onto a car hood. His hands went back and forth between her: touching her face, her hair, her sides and her back. He couldn't get enough.
Lindsay was doing the same. She was bolder, her hands cupping his ass. It fuelled him on. Her body was leaning against the car, her legs up and bent with him between them. He touched the tips of his fingers to the very smooth skin of her thighs. His hands crept up the sides of her legs under the skirt.
She inhaled deep.
He leaned in full, pressing his whole body flush against hers. She hooked her legs around his hips, and his fingers went up to trace the line of her panties and discovered she was wearing a thong.
"Danny, someone might see," she panted as he bit her earlobe.
"We have to be quiet then," he whispered, licking her jugular.
With some maneuvering he freed himself from his pants and boxers, and then moved the thin piece of fabric she wore under the skirt. He kissed her hard and pushed into her. She tore her mouth away with a hiss. He knew there wasn't enough foreplay.
"Sorry," he grimaced.
"It's fine." She gave him a crooked smile and held him tighter with her legs. He pulled almost fully out and thrust back in, this time much more smoothly. She moaned and he groaned.
He was turned on just by watching her face. Watching her mouth open slightly, her pink tongue wet her lips as he moved in and out of her body. Her hair was tussled, she looked more beautiful than he could ever have imagined.
Danny had to touch her face to be sure she really was there. He had a face to go with the voice, the moans he loved to hear, and the lithe body he was touching.
Her hand began to slide down her body but he grabbed it and held it up over her head then grabbed her other hand to join it. He used one hand to hold her wrists and the other to rub the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs with his thumb. She gasped and closed her eyes.
"Tell me, Montana. Say it was you." He pulled out of her. "That sexy voice on the phone." He pushed in. "Smokin' hot sex in the shower." Pulled out. "That kinky vixen in black La Perla and stilettos." In.
She nudged his hips with hers, squeezed him inside her and whimpered in frustration. She tilted her head back as if offering her neck to him and he feasted licking and biting so hard that it left red marks, and then went down the other side.
"Say it was you, Lindsay," he whispered her name, low and husky from what her body was doing to him.
"It. Was. Me." She was panting, groaning, pushing off the car hood, and he was grunting, shoving and biting her clavicle. Her body tensed; he rubbed circles, then spelled out her full name until he felt a rippling of hot wet silk around him, and she stopped breathing. "I did it." Her back arched, her breasts were pressed tight against him, her eyes were opened but not focused on anything and tears of joy streamed down her face.
Danny watched her come with an intensity that rocked his world. He orgasmed without his usual final thrusts. His release was so hard that it tore a moan from deep down in his throat and he had to close his eyes.
He collapsed on her. They were both shaking from exertion. He rose onto his elbows and searched her face, taking in her flushed cheeks, brown eyes that were impossibly dark with arousal, kiss-bruised lips and a shy, crooked smile. He felt something inside that he didn't know what to call, or how to describe.
"Damn Montana, why me?" He chuckled. "Not that I'm complainin', but why not Flack? Or Mac? Or Hawks?"
Lindsay bit her bottom lip. She searched his eyes, trying to figure out why he needed to know.
"Because I like you," she smiled. "And Mac's too old for me."
"You are one twisted girl, Montana." He reached out and tucked her sex-tussled hair behind her ears. "I like it." He leaned in and kissed her while he reached into his pocket and pulled out the panties. "These are yours." He held them up so she could see them.
She reached out to take them but he held them back, out of her reach.
"Oh, no I'm keepin' 'em. In my desk, next ta the Montana scarf. Where I can see them whenever I want." He paused, watching as her face flushed in a different way as before. "Might cause some talk if, ya know, Mac or Flack saw 'em."
She looked shocked. "You wouldn't dare, Messer!"
"Oh, I think I would." He pushed up and started to his car, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
They weren't even yet. Oh no. He had a lot to do before he got even for being left in the hotel room until the cleaning staff came.
When she left him in the hotel room the object she put in his hand was the key to the cuffs but he dropped it…